Worlds Apart
by Tedd.E.Bare
Summary: Amy Dorrit's father isn't very good with money. Imprisoned in the Marshalsea, he has spent her entire life behind bars, whilst she lives with her ailing Uncle. Between caring for her family and working herself to the bone, she has had little opportunity to lead her own life. That's all about to change when her employer's son returns home. Modern retelling of Little Dorrit.
1. Domestic Difficulties

Amy Dorrit's father is not very good with money. Imprisoned before her birth in the minimum security prison, The Marshalsea, on charges of fraud and bankruptcy, he has not seen the free world in over 20 years. Amy grew up in community housing, along with her elder siblings, Edward and Felicity, under the care of their ailing Uncle Frederick.

At the tender age of 10, Amy knew that the world around her was cruel, her mother having taken herself away from her children in an inescapable and fatal haze of prescription medications, leaving the two teenagers and a young girl to the bumbling efforts of their imprisoned father, and his well-meaning but unwell brother.

By the time she reached 15 Amy Dorrit was well aware of her lot in life, and under the supervision of her home economics teacher, she learnt to cook and sew and keep a house tidy. Under her maths teacher she learnt how to balance a budget and stay within a meagre income. Under her Careers teacher, she learnt how to cultivate a respectable CV out of very little life experience.

Under her father's occasional tutelage, she learnt that they had not always been so poor. Under her sister's well-meaning guidance, she learnt to fight with her fists and kick with her tiny legs. Under her brother's grumbling, she learnt her family was once housed in a grand ol' home, with a garden that stretched, filled with an ambling rose walk, a pond or two, even a hedge-maze. _All lost to us now, though,_ her brother would sniff as he turned his attention back to the paused video game he spent most days on; discontent with the hand he had been dealt.

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At age 22, Amy was well-versed in her family history, and even more wisely, well-versed in how to be useful. Her father scorned the idea that his family would be forced to seek employment, for they had been landed gentry for many generations previously, and so all three siblings had learned to hide their various exploits, maintaining the fiction their father so very much wanted to believe.

Edward didn't have to do much lying to their father, for he flitted from one low-paid job to the next, always restless, and impatient to be home again to play his PlayStation. One month he would be cutting carcases in an abattoir, the next he'd be pumping gas at the station, then the next he would be sweltering in the kitchen of a take-away pizza shop, and then he would once more be unemployed for months on end until his pay checks ran out and the pittance he got in government benefits required him once more to seek work.

Felicity had, with their Uncle's assistance, gotten herself a job working as a dancer in a burlesque club, where she twirled and sang. She spent her evenings delivering high kicks into the faces of cash-heavy tourists who'd seen some American movie about the dancing, seedy old men with questionable intentions and art nouveau hipsters who would listlessly sway to the shrill jazz music. Dancing was something Felicity had a natural gift for, and the stage manager had already given her a few solos, and had always hinted that scouts from theatrical agencies might come knocking, a promise that never eventuated as she became the sole drawcard for the bar. During the day she slept, shopped and socialised with a gaggle of fellow dancers, occasionally condescending to go on a lunch date with one of the hipsters who dared ask her out.

Amy, in comparison to her brother, was a picture of industry. By 17 she worked two jobs, working as a cleaner during the day, and waiting on tables in the evening, then staying until after close to be a dish-pig and clean the endless dishes in the kitchen. By the early hours of the morning she would go back to her uncle's home, collapse on her tiny single bed which doubled as a couch in the daytime in the study of the small apartment. She would sleep little more than 5 hours, before waking once more to make her family breakfast, and head on out to clean other peoples' homes.

Uncle Frederick had once been a talented musician, confident on all wind instruments, from the flute and oboe to the trombone, trumpet and French horn. However a lifetime of smoking had left him with lung problems, and found all but the clarinet impossible to play. He had sold his prized instruments and managed to secure a small apartment to call home, which only a couple months after, would also become home to his pregnant sister-in-law and her two children. After a decade he became the legal guardian of the three children; he was closest to the youngest of them, little Amy Dorrit with her freckles and large and innocent eyes staring up at him in wonder and love. He had been there since her day one, when he had nine-year old Eddy and seven-year old Felly out in the corridor of the hospital, waiting with them to welcome their newest family member. William Dorrit had been serving the first month of his 30-year sentence when Elizabeth Dorrit found out she was expecting, and was forced to wait until his youngest child was 6 months old before he was permitted to meet his new daughter.

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William Dorrit once held People Magazine's title of " _Hottest Rich Man in the UK"_ , a title he held in private honour for the three-year long reign he was awarded the label. Publically he was a well respected businessman, shrewd with his associates, but reportedly well-liked and always reported positively in the press. This way have had more to do with the fact that William had been golf pals with the Press Giants than his unwavering good behaviour; but defrauding the IRS and all his various business partners for over $40 million put a significant dent in the public opinion of the formerly lauded gentleman.

In having served over 20 years of his sentence, many things had changed in his life, but his sense of social standing had remained unchanged. The prospect of his children being forced to seek employment was untenable, and as such, the three of them had learned to hide their various employments from their father.

William Dorrit was the eldest, wisest, and formerly the richest person housed in the Marshalsea Minimum Security, and had such been given the title of _Father of the Marshalsea_. In truth it was a pittance of an accolade in comparison to his former title, but after two decades in prison, he regarded it as an equal honour. He had favour among the prison guards, who would always make sure he was comfortable, well fed and was given due acknowledgement by the other inmates.

Head guard, John Chivery always made himself available to the Father of the Marshalsea, and had even on occasion, allowed the three children to visit outside of regular visiting hours. In truth, the three Dorrit children had always been welcome by all inmates, and Amy could often be found at another inmate's table, playing a game of Checkers, or listening to stories of a misspent youth. Indeed, when Edward and Felicity began to beg off from visits, Amy would attend faithfully, and after seeing her father settled in conversation during visiting hours to a former associate, she would go and see other prisoners and make them feel a little bit better about their position.

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At 22, Amy moved up in a pay scale bracket and was deemed _too expensive_ to be waiting tables and cleaning dishes, and so was laid off with an appropriate severance package for her years of hard work and loyal service. It was a pitiful sum in total, but with her superior budgeting skills, she could make it stretch for a total of three months, providing her siblings didn't catch wind of the total sum.

A former inmate of the Marshalsea, Richard Plornish, who had served a decidedly short three-month sentence for a few too many driving infringements, was an ever-faithful assistant when it came to job-searching. In his first month of imprisonment, he had waited for his wife and their five kids to arrive for visiting time, but after a half hour of waiting he had decided that Isabelle must have been caught up – perhaps the twins had been caught up with some mischief at school. His guilt had grown at his failings, until a shy and sweet 16 year old Amy, who had been affectionately dubbed the _Child of the Marshalsea,_ had dropped into the seat across from him and asked him how his day was going. Isabelle had arrived only a few minutes later, with their five children in tow, all of whom Amy took under her wing, and onto the small play area to give the couple some privacy.

Amy reminded Richard of his eldest child, Melissa, who was a scant two years younger, and after his release, swore to always be available to provide her whatever assistance he could. Isabelle never forgot the kindness of the young girl, and backed up her husband's efforts when Amy approached them afterwards if they knew of any jobs going around. Isabelle Plornish also acted as a sounding board for the shy girl, helping cultivate her resume and interview skills and even offering their address in Bleeding Heart Place to use in place of her real community housing apartment as the first few job searches had been fruitless when people had learnt her address.

It was to the Plornish family that Amy once more returned after she had been laid off. She had already done a search through all the job sites at the library, applied for them all; had done a resume drop of virtually every shop in town, and all without success. Isabelle had heard through the grapevine that a friend of their landlord was potentially looking for a house keeper, and passed on Amy's details through to the older woman.

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Amy was down to the last week of her budgeted money, and was starting to stress with only one house-cleaning job still available to her as the others had downsized and regrettably let her go. At least they all gave her favourable references and their best wishes.

"What's cooking your goose, Little Dorrit?" huffed Uncle Frederick on the Tuesday morning. Amy had hung her head in her hands after a pitiful bowl of cereal with not enough milk, and silently bemoaned that she had only $20 to get them enough food for the week. She had smiled at the childhood nickname, granted to her because of her short stature.

"It's just a small, minor monetary inconvenience." She had sighed in return, trying to conceal the worst of it from her beloved uncle.

"I see," he regarded her quietly, the hiss of his oxygen tank the only thing breaking the quiet of the room. Edward was comatose in his bedroom, and Felicity had spent the night with friends, leaving the two of them the only awake members of the household. "But how much of an inconvenience _is_ it Little Dorrit?"

Amy looked at her uncle, seeing past the ravages his face and body had suffered, seeing only the man who loved her as unconditionally as her father.

"We have less than $30 to get us through the week. I can't afford to put food on the table. Ed and Felicity keep their own pay but I can't afford to feed us all on $20 for a week. You have to keep your pension because of medical bills and you pay the rates and you keep a roof over our heads. I just," she paused and put her head back into her hands, "I can't keep us fed on $20." She looked back at her uncle with tears in her eyes. "I've been searching for jobs since I got laid off, but nowhere wants me."

Frederick carefully put a hand on his niece's shoulder as the tears fell.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath through his nasal cannula before regarding the girl he loved, "Feed yourself on that money, love. Ed can buy his own damn food, Felicity can fend for herself, and I can make my own damn pasta. You take care of us all, but that money is rightfully yours. You worked too damn hard to make something o'yourself, and I'm not having you wither away here because your brother can't be stuffed to keep at something long enough to figure out that work equals pay. That money is _yours_ , so don't you dare spend it on anything or anyone but yourself, I'll not stand for it Little Dorrit."

It was perhaps the longest speech she had ever heard him make, and the tears in her eyes doubled as her Uncle commanded her to be selfish, something that went entirely against the grain of her person.

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The twenty dollars did last Little Dorrit until the Thursday, when she was granted an interview at a Mrs Clennam's home. The formidable Mrs Clennam was the woman to whom Mrs Plornish had spoken of previously. She was regarded by all as an uncharitable and fierce woman, shrewd and unforgiving in her business with others. She was accompanied by her live-in nurse, Affery French, and her business partner, a surly and grim Jeremy Flintwinch whose face had long ago forgotten the ability to pull any expression aside from a grimace.

Although wheelchair bound after a stroke, Mrs Clennam was equally as unstoppable as she had been previously. Amy approached her with her usual, unflappable kindness, and apparently melted the icy heart of Mrs Clennam, who hired her as a house keeper within ten minutes and put her to work that day. A generous income was supplemented by included meals and the promise that she could have any day off that she ever wanted to take.

Amy nearly cried in relief, but pushed it aside in order to show her employer that she was worthy of the trust she had been given. It was impossible for Amy to have known that taking that position she was irrevocably changing her life.

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Chapter one. I've had this fiddling around in my head for a few weeks now after rereading LD. I LOVE the story of Little Amy Dorrit and after searching in vain for a modern retelling – I decided to craft my own. I have NO idea how long this will take, or if I'll manage to finish it.. but I'm currently on summer break from teaching, so anything can happen. I also LOVE Charles Dickens' work because he rambles on and on (apparently he was paid per word - Any evidence that this is true?) which is pretty much how I speak/write in real life, so that works.

PLEASE review.


	2. Family Affairs

Previously: Amy Dorrit, youngest daughter of imprisoned William Dorrit loses one job, but gains another as Mrs Clennam seeks a housekeeper.

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Rose Clennam prided herself on being right. Even prior to her stroke, she did as she saw fit, and if the ends justified the means, then there was neither harm nor evil to fight against. When she learned of a young woman seeking employment, she was unmoved. When she learned the young woman's last name, she was intrigued. When she met the young woman, she was roused into action. Rose Clennam knew whose family this young girl came from, "Amy" carried no weight, but "Dorrit" was a name that carried itself as no small burden.

The young woman's youthful, friendly appearance did nothing to melt Rose's heart, but her humility and clear work ethic made Rose feel the quiet nudges of guilt, long buried and long forgotten. Hiring Amy Dorrit as her housekeeper was no great stretch, but once the girl had followed the live-in nurse, Affery, out of the room Rose had swivelled to Jeremy and unleashed her concerns.

"She must never find out."

Jeremy Flintwinch narrowed his beady eyes and stared at her, "Find out what, exactly?"

"How our families are," she paused all but spat out the last, "tied together."

Flintwinch snorted, and then turned it into a hacking cough when Rose glared at him. "Alrigh', alrigh', she'll never hear it from me. But if you ain't going to give her that money, then you ought to be paying her generously in recompense. The accountant seems to think that little gold mine has grown to be quite large over the years, and now Richard's dead, the money is hers. Lawyers might take a year or two to figure it out though. All that paperwork you two did back and forth over the years is a shambles enough for them to lose themselves in for a bit."

Rose sniffed delicately and turned away, eager for the topic to dissolve itself into friendlier business. She spared only a moment's thought for her now dead, estranged husband. Richard Clennam, the great business mogul, dead at 55. He'd probably been too busy shacking up with heiresses to remember to get his heart medication prescription refilled. Only another moment of thought was spared for Arthur, who at that moment was flying to Heathrow International, the ashes of his father in his arms.

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The Clennam kitchen was remodelled after Rose's stroke, to accommodate for wheelchair access, with the lady of the house so confined to such degradation of appearance. Amy had never seen a kitchen so large; she could easily unfold her couch bed in the middle, and still have space aplenty to cook around it. Affery French, who had been Rose's live-in nurse for nigh on a decade, was Amy's tour guide for her first day in the large house. She showed her where everything was, from the cutlery to the spare linen, from the cleaning supplies to garden shed.

Affery observed Amy in the moments when she was taking stock of everything. Rose had never been one for charity, and usually put the house tasks on her, even though cleaning windows was not part of the purview of a nurse. When they reached the bedrooms, Affery showed her them all, from the tidy and clean rooms clearly used by Mrs Clennam, to the dusty spare rooms, finally arriving at what appeared to be a forgotten corner of the house. Affery opened the door to show Amy the time capsule that was clearly a teenager's bedroom.

When Amy turned to Affery with her silent question, Affery needed no prompting. "This is Arthur's room. He's her son, been living with Mr Clennam in China since he was 19. Rose and Mr Clennam don't get along too well. Arthur's a good kid, always was a well-behaved young man. He was 16 when Rose had her stroke, and only went to China with his dad to get his degree. Rose thinks Mr Clennam made him stay afterwards to keep him away from her. Moot point now, though, Mr Clennam's dead and Arthur's bringing home his ashes. He's supposed to arrive on the weekend."

Amy's eyes widened at the family history Affery had found so easy to tell her. Affery noticed nothing and moved on to the next task.

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For the remainder of the week, Amy worked from 8 in the morning, until 5 in the evening. The house itself was in want of a proper cleaning, and although Affery had done her best, she was better suited to providing Rose Clennam the level of assistance she needed. Amy washed, dusted, vacuumed, tidied, weeded, mowed lawns, sprayed for bugs, and removed the cobwebs from the long unused garage and workshop. She was exhausted, dirty and could barely lift her teacup to her lips on the Friday. For all her work though, she was also exhilarated, pleased to be of genuine use, and making good money with her energy and time.

Rose was also pleased to see her leap of faith pay off. The windows shone from being cleaned from the outside too, enabling Rose to see Amy's efforts in the garden, the trimmed hedges, the revived garden beds and the mown lawns. Affery reported back to her that Amy's work throughout the house was exemplary; she had even stayed later than her work time to help Affery make their dinner, and cleaned up the dishes afterward. Rose usually kept herself buried in business all day, paperwork and invoices were never ending, and she was the one with business smarts, leaving Jeremy with the clients and meetings. On Amy's third day of work, she locked her laptop at lunchtime and wheeled herself to the kitchen, finding Amy's sandwich untouched as she had instead been repairing a leg of a buffet chair, one that had been wobbling for years and always stood untouched at the furthest end of the counter.

Amy hadn't noticed her audience, and Rose spent a few moments regarding her appearance. That day Amy had worn her favourite shoes, a faded and old pair of black Converse shoes, the black rubber banding on the white soles peeling off in places, the laces had once been white. Faded jeans whose silhouette was a decade out of fashion and a dark grey t-shirt that she seemed to swim in. Her hair up in a scraggy ponytail completed the look, but rather than look like the poverty-stricken woman she was, she carried it with a certain dignity and grace that made it impossible for Rose to condemn her for it.

As Amy succeeded in her task, she uprighted the stool and replaced it to its home, turned and jolted with a shock to see her employer looking bemusedly up at her.

"Oh, I am sorry I hadn't noticed you were there!" she rushed.

Rose waved away her concern with a brief wave of her hand and replied that she had come by and hadn't wished to disturb the girl so focussed on her task. Amy, clearly still flustered, rushed to bring over Rose's lunch, and was deeply honoured when Rose had her join for their meal at the dining room table. Affery ambled in a few moments later, a half eaten sandwich in hand, announcing she would have to out shortly to get a prescription refilled for Rose before shuffling out of the room again.

"Tell me a bit about you Amy dear," Rose began after they had eaten, "you are full young to be so inclined to a good work ethic."

Amy fiddled with the edge of a napkin, pressing a crease with her thumbnail, unsure of where, or how, to begin, "well, I'm 22, I have two older siblings, a brother and sister who have always taken such good care of me. My mum died when I was 10, and dad is," she paused, trying to find the words that would not prematurely end her employment, or cause Rose to look at her differently, "otherwise employed with the majority of his time, so I learnt how to be self-sufficient from a young age, and taking care of a home was a natural part of that. It hasn't always been an easy task, but I imagine that others are always worse off, and I suppose I stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with things."

Amy looked down in shame, realising how that sounded to her own ears, looking back up again when Rose let out huff of air, which Amy supposed she meant as an approval as there was no look of disgust or revulsion on the older woman's face.

"I think you are a good girl, Amy. I do not say this lightly, but you appear to be the kind of woman who is worthy of having the trust to which she is bestowed. Many people of your generation are lazy, ignorant, even malicious and self-serving in their business dealings with others, but you are a rare diamond which is always worth the sparkle."

Amy blushed at the praise, and found herself unable to answer except for a quiet thank you.

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Arthur Clennam was never a fan of flying in airplanes. Give him stuffy taxis in a smog-ridden Chinese city or the nausea-inducing wobbling of a boat in the rubbish-filled harbour any day over 11.5 hours of flights. There was something about being confined to a single seat, usually seated next to a person of questionable hygiene, or drastically expanded girth made the trips unpleasant and almost pushed him past the point of endurance. For his flight home to England, however, he had a stroke of genius that left his nearest fellow passenger begging the stewardess for any other seat, _anywhere_ on the plane.

His stroke of genius was to simply buy two tickets, side by side, and sit the urn containing his father's ashes on the one that also sat next to a stranger. This left Arthur with two, three seats with which to spread out and not suffer for 12 hours of his life in a confined, airless space. The other passenger who moved initially raised a concern about the _ashes of a dead person_ being allotted a plane seat, but backed off quickly when Arthur returned the volley with having respect for the deceased, and reminding him that he had purchased a second seat to be respectful to his father, who would have otherwise been stowed away in the overhead compartment.

Arthur arrived at Heathrow International at 11am Saturday morning. Dreary and dismal, virtually the same weather as the day he left 6 years prior. His father in his arms, he waited for his luggage to come around the carousel and spent the interim thinking over his last few days with his father.

Richard Clennam had always been a loving father, but that was at odds as to how he treated his wife, and Arthur could never figure out what the wedge was between them. When Arthur was looking at universities to study at, his father encouraged him to apply internationally, inviting him to come with him to China to complete his engineering degree. Arthur hadn't realised for a year or two that his father's move to China would be a permanent move and that his parents, although not divorcing, would be irrevocably estranged.

Richard made no secret of his extramarital affairs when they lived together in China. One month his father's girlfriend would be a Hong Kong heiress, the next season he would be besotted with an actress, or a "social media influencer" who posted their whole life online. Whilst Arthur didn't approve of his father's activities, he never vocalised them, even when heart failure rushed his father to a hospital.

" _Your mother_ ," his father had spluttered, his breath rattling in his chest as he died, " _your mother, Arthur, she-"_

Arthur never learned what his father intended to say.

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A knock on the door, mid afternoon on a Saturday roused Amy from the depths of a baking dish that had something baked on that she just couldn't get off. Affery had gone out to do the groceries and Amy assumed it was her returning with arms laden with bags. She dried her hands and flipped the towel over her shoulder, before going to the door and opening it.

Needless to include, but it was not Affery, laden with groceries at the door. Instead Amy came face to face with perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen. She struggled for words, mirroring his actions as they both floundered for speech.

"I'm… Arthur,-" he eventually was able to say, "-Clennam. Is my mother here?"

Amy's eyes widened, suddenly connecting the handsome face to the singular picture of a young boy framed in one of the upstairs hallways. "Yes, sorry! She's in her study; I'll take you to her."

With that she ushered him in and led him to Rose's study. Mrs Clennam didn't even look up from her computer when Arthur entered the room, in fact she didn't acknowledge that anyone was there until Arthur cleared his throat, and to abide by the rules of decorum, she could not even pretend that she had not heard.

"Well, you're here then," she drawled unenthusiastically, "I take it you had a survivable journey."

Arthur stoically stood in the doorway, half in, half out. He was unsure what had caused the censure in her tone, but wasn't willing to discount that it was his mere presence back in this house. By that stage, the young woman who had let him into the house had disappeared, Arthur hazarding she would be doing something domestic, based on the tea towel that had been over her shoulder.

He nodded in response to the unasked question, for his mother hadn't actually asked after his trip.

He drew his mother's attention to the silver vase nestled in the crook of his arm, "Where are we putting dad?"

Rose let her glare settle on the ashes of her husband, wishing that they, like the man they had once been, would disappear once more to the farthest corner of the earth. Her marriage to Richard had not been a good one, even though they were quite happy in their earliest days together. He had never been a forceful man, but his behaviour once upon a time had made a reunion between them impossible.

She turned back to her laptop and with a sniff, suggested that he might put his father in the garage.

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End of Chapter Two. Please review. :)


	3. Better In Than Out

Previously: Rose Clennam seeks to conceal a truth, Amy shows her worth and Arthur Clennam returns home with some extra baggage.

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When Amy had left the mother and son to their own devices, she returned to the dishes in the kitchen, and seeing Affery pull up at the garage with the groceries, raced out to help her with them. The distance from the driveway to the house was not great, but Affery was the sort of woman that would refuse to make two trips. Upon returning to the kitchen, Amy was witness to the reunion between Arthur and Affery.

"Good Lord, bless my soul," Affery breathed, "Arthur you've gotten _taller!_ "

Arthur laughed at that, but wrapped the nurse in a tight hug. "It's good to be home, Affery. And so wonderful to see _you_ , 6 years has been a stretch to be so far away."

"Oh I've missed having you around, dear boy. London found itself quite dreary without you to engineer the clouds away."

Arthur snorted into the woman's greying hair, and let her go, his eyes meeting the curious brown ones from across the kitchen island.

"This is Amy," Affery introduced when she noticed where the attention had shifted to, "your mum wanted to get a housekeeper and Miss Amy was the standout winner. She's been such a joy to have around; your mum adores her work." At that, Affery shot a particular look at Arthur, with him returning it; both of them fully aware of the trial Rose Clennam could be.

Arthur inclined his head towards Amy and directed a hello towards her. He knew she must be a resilient young woman to be able to deal with his mother on a daily basis. She looked near his age, but her short stature had him thinking of a child. Arthur realised that he was still holding onto the urn, and asked Affery where an appropriate place to put him might be found.

"Mum suggested the garage, and I gather she would like him out of sight and out of mind; do you have any suggestions?"

Affery waved off the garage suggestion, citing that Richard never appeared to be a "car" man.

"What about the upstairs sitting room?" piped in Amy, "I gather Rose would rarely have a reason to venture in there, and it would be a nicer option for you than the garage."

Arthur considered this, and upon deciding she was right, went and found his father's urn a spot on the mantelshelf in the upstairs room.

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Late Saturday afternoons were always reserved for visiting the prison, but Amy was twenty minutes late getting through the security; she was twenty minutes late and her father was visibly irate at her tardiness.

"Amy, my dear baby girl, why are you so late?!" huffed her father unhappily, "I've been sitting here waiting, withering away, watching everybody else get their visitors arrive in a timely manner."

Amy could not bear to tell him about her job, and so deflected back to him, for she knew William Dorrit's favourite topic for conversation was himself.

"Oh Dad, I knew you weren't withering away. I simply got caught up at," she paused a moment, "I was caught up with a friend and mistakenly didn't keep track of the time. I _also_ happened to see Mr Nandy leaving on my way in, so I gathered he spent some time with you this afternoon. Being that it's so late in the afternoon, I imagine that you've had a great many visitors today-"

"Edward and Felicity have not been by, although Frederick hobbled in and out earlier, blathering on about something or other. You must not learn to abandon your father, Amy, I gather your brother and sister have a great many things to keep them occupied, but the three of you must spare a moment for your poor father."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Amy wondering why her brother at least had bothered to spare the time to visit their father.

"I _did_ have a few visitors today, now you mention it; The Telegraph sent a lackey to try to get a story, but they were only permitted to ask socially acceptable questions, I tell you, Officer Chivery keeps a tight ship here. This morning I did happen to have a doctor's appointment with Doctor Haggage, who says I'm in fine physical condition for someone who has been out of the wider world for so long."

Amy nodded and let her father continue to speak. Until the end of visiting hours, 6pm, she sat with him as he recounted his week, in fine detail, perfectly recalling minute details of the goings on. When it was time to leave, she was gently ushered out by Officer Chivery, who promised her father that he would see her safely out.

"It's good of you to always come see him Miss Amy, he's always glad to have you nearby, and always boasts of his little girl."

"I'm glad he keeps well under the care of you all," Amy returned with a tired grin, "I couldn't imagine how he'd be without your unending support. I never knew what he was like before he was in here, but I know he's in such good hands that I feel no guilt for not really knowing all about what life was like before."

"Rest well, Miss Amy, you needn't fear for your dad, not he remains as he is. All of 'em in here have nothing but respect for him. He's still got that nickname _Father of the Marshalsea_ , even after all these years."

At that stage, Amy and Officer Chivery had reached the security gate. She passed through the gate and before the older man locked it behind her; she turned and gave him a hug.

"Thank you Chivery," she whispered to him, "I'm ever so glad that there's someone as wonderful as you who is here."

With that, she released him and stepped away, allowing the gate to close between them.

"Miss Amy, it is my pleasure to be able to be of use. Will you be by next Saturday?"

"Yes, but due to my job I might be late. Please don't tell him though – I'd rather he think I'm preoccupied with something social. I'm sure you remember the way he reacted when Edward got that job one time in the canning factory."

Chivery hummed as he recounted the event, more than four years ago, when Edward had carelessly commented on his menial labour job during a visit; an incident that resulted in a total lockdown.

"My lips are sealed on the matter dear girl. Your secret is safe with me."

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Outside the secure prison, Amy came face to face with a newly familiar face: Arthur Clennam. He stammered an apology for following her, but given what he knew of his mother, wanted a chance to speak to Amy outside the confines of his childhood home.

"I can't help but think my mother is hiding something. She's not one given to think about the needs of others, nor has she expressed a desire for more staff at home. When I was a teen, after her stroke, Dad would always try to convince her to get a gardener or housekeeper, but she always refused. It's unusual that now she's changed her tune. How did she come to find you?"

Amy, although hesitant at first, recounted her story, from meeting the Plornishes, to being laid off as a waitress, to her name being passed on to their landlord. From person to person she relayed to him how she had come to work for his mother. Arthur looked behind them as they walked back into town.

"What is this place?"

Amy looked at him in surprise, "it's the Marshalsea minimum security prison." She followed his gaze before turning back and meeting his eyes, "My father is imprisoned there. He's been there my entire life. I visit him every Saturday afternoon, and sit with him until visiting hours end."

"His crime?"

"Fraud, I believe, plus a few charges of embezzlement. There was some big investment scandal that went down and he had to declare bankruptcy. My siblings and I live with my Uncle Frederick in Public housing in Woolwich."

She didn't know what inspired her to share so much about her own life with him, but she was drawn to his quiet, calm demeanour, and was glad that he didn't judge her for her circumstances.

"It's not too dark out, but would you mind if I walked you home, or to the train station at least? It's been over half a decade since I've been in London, and I find I've missed the place. I've gotten so used to the smog of Beijing, that I've forgotten what the smog of London is like."

Arthur was pleased to make Amy smile at his comment. As they walked she asked what China had been like, and was interested in the world beyond the small amount she had been able to see. He told her of the University he attended, and the constant bustle of the streets no matter the hour and the huge variety of food.

"I've lived so close to the airport all my life, it's just across the river. When I was little I loved seeing the planes fly in and out each day, their lights blinking, and the sound they make as they take off and land. I've dreamt of flying somewhere one day, somewhere quiet with a beach with the whitest sand and clear water where you can see the fish swim."

Amy looked down at her scuffed shoes, embarrassed at once more revealing so much. Her embarrassment was cut short when Arthur returned the favour.

"I remember when I was in high school, we had a class trip to Parliament, and we got to watch a sitting. I was so fascinated at how the politicians wanted to affect change that I spent a year on the debate team trying to get better at public speaking so I could be the next Prime Minister."

They both laughed over their childhood dreams, and chatted about anything that came to mind until they reached the train station and he waved her a final farewell, promising to see her on the Monday.

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Arriving back at the housing block, Amy was glad that it was not yet so dark that it was unsafe to walk alone. It was not that she feared her neighbours, but there was always the risk that there would be a gang in the shadows, or someone lurking in an alleyway with the intent to harm someone walking by. She was forever grateful for the self defence lessons her sister gave her when she was twelve, and even more grateful that she never had a reason to put those skills into practice.

The apartment was as dark as the night sky as she unlocked the front door, seeing a note left by her uncle that he had gone out to rescue Edward from himself. Felicity would be at work until the early hours of the next day. This left Amy to her own devices for the evening, and she was at a bit of a loss for what to do. She thought back to her visit with her father, and how well he had looked, to the surprise of seeing Arthur Clennam lurking outside the prison entrance. She enjoyed talking to him, and privately admitted to herself that he was the most handsome man she had ever met. He was friendly, kind and hadn't judged her for her situation or upbringing.

She made herself dinner, a small meal of pasta and scrambled egg and whiled away the rest of her night waiting for her uncle and brother to return. She watched a late night comedy show as she repaired one of her shirts and rehemmed a pair of pants by hand. Neither Amy, nor her Uncle had a mobile phone, leaving her unable to contact the rest of her family. Only Felicity and Edward had phones, and with her sister at work, and her brother the reason for her Uncle's absence, she was unable to contact anyone to see when they would be home once more. Eventually she called it a night, and surrendered herself to a restless evening, sleeping lightly enough in the hope that she would head the familiar unlocking of the door, and the hushed voices of her uncle and brother to permeate through the unit.

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Amy awoke the next morning to find breakfast already made for her. Uncle Frederick was sitting at the small dining table, tea and toast already made the way, hot and ready for her to devour. Upon asking what time they had returned, Uncle Frederick waved vaguely, not answering the question. As he sat, his oxygen tubing giving his inhalations a quiet hiss, he all but glared at his cup of tea. This roused Amy into asking what was wrong.

"You know how Eddy got himself a job, down at the racetrack? He got himself a gig working for a bookie." Her uncle reminded her. Amy nodded in response and motioned for her uncle to go on.

"Turns out Friday he thought he'd get himself some extra on the side, and started taking side bets, which is completely illegal. Yesterday afternoon he got himself caught by the bookie when someone came to claim a win on the ponies. He's been arrested and charged with embezzlement, which will either end with an 8-month sentence, or community service, and probably a fine as well as restitution of the money he got himself tied up in. They posted his bail at $300."

Amy let her jaw drop as she worked through what had happened. "How much does he owe the bookie?"

"Something like $4000, it was a round figure, I know that much."

"Oh good Lord, He's never going to pay that back." She began to panic, wondering how she would balance putting food on the table, and keeping them all solvent with a debt like that."

Her Uncle put an end to her misery quick smart as he saw the cogs turning in her head, "Now you listen to me Amy. Your brother done himself a bad one and it's not gonna be you that digs him out of this hole, alright? He's the one who get himself into strife, and he's gonna have to be the one to figure out how to pick up that metaphorical shovel and digs his own bloody way out."

"But his bail!" Amy cried, upset at the situation she now found herself in, torn between helping her brother, and listening to her Uncle's advice.

"Your idiot of a brother can sulk in his cell until Tuesday morning when my pension comes through, then I'll pay his bail, and he can add a third sum of money he'll end up owing to another. Don't you worry yourself Amy, he's got himself a tidy and warm holding cell and he'll be fed decent food and the coppers will keep a good eye on him."

Her uncle's kindly mean words did not reassure Amy, and she spent her breakfast time struggling between taking small bites of her buttered toast, and mentally taking small steps towards a plan to make her brother solvent again.

Felicity, when she wandered in shortly before lunch, was brought up to speed. In comparison to Amy's anxiousness, Felicity was a picture of serenity as she heard the news. When their uncle was done wheezing through the details, she announced she was going to have a shower and then read a book.

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Amy waited until she was sure Felicity was out of the shower and dressed before she knocked on her door, a cup of tea in hand for her sister. Felicity took the cup from her and set it down on her vanity before pulling her little sister in for a hug.

"Uncle Frederick's gone next door to watch the game with Mr Exton; would you like me to dry your hair?"

Felicity hummed in the affirmative and handed the hairdryer to her sister before sitting on the chair and facing the vanity mirror. She regarded her little mousy sister's face as her locks were carefully dried, and detected that Amy was not her usual, cheerful self. When Amy switched the hairdryer off and began to brush her hair, Felicity thought it would best if she got to the bottom of Amy's issue sooner rather than later. She couldn't bear to see her baby sister upset.

"What's the matter?"

Amy picked up another lock of Felicity's hair and started absent-mindedly curling it, "I'm worried about Eddy."

Felicity snorted, "He got himself into a mess hasn't he. What was he thinking trying to cheat a bookie? He's learnt that lesson quick smart."

"But Felly, he's could end up in _prison_. Imagine how much it would break dad's heart to see Eddy there. Then on top of that he's going to have to pay that money back, and Uncle Frederick said he'd have to stay in custody until Tuesday because we don't have any money for his bail, I can't afford to pay his bail if I'm going to put food on the table for us for the next week. I ca-"

She was cut off by her own tears, and then the sobs as she put down her sister's curls and Felicity turned and yanked her sister into her lap for a hug.

"You know he'll be okay, Little Mouse," she comforted her sister, using the nickname they'd bestowed on her at age five when Amy scared the entire family by secreting herself in the bottom shelf of the pantry to smuggle a handful of peanuts.

"Edward is going to be just fine. He's been in scrapes before, this one just happens to be a little bit bigger than the others. He'll be fine in custody until Tuesday; the cops will make sure he's fed, watered and doesn't do anything stupid to himself. You'll see, in fact, why don't we go down to the station we can see for ourselves just how okay he will be until his bail is paid?" Felicity wrapped Amy even tighter in her arms, "You and I will go in, we'll guilt trip our silly older brother and then we'll come home and watch TV for a bit?"

Amy nodded and wiped her eyes and rising from her seat on her sister's lap.

"Remember, Little Mouse, that he'll be okay." Felicity called out as Amy left the room to find some shoes.

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